Gospel Story Finder

Jamie’s conscience pricked him as he climbed to the top of the tree. He knew that he should be helping his dad on the farm—after all, he was twelve years old now—but something important was happening in Colesville, New York, today, and the whole town was talking about it.
Joseph Smith was coming back to their little farming community after attending the first conference of the recently organized Church in Fayette, New York. His wife, Emma, was traveling with him, as were Oliver Cowdery and John and David Whitmer. Some of the people in Colesville wanted to be baptized while the Prophet was there, and Jamie was one of them. He’d sat in the back of the room when Joseph had preached to them before, and he knew that the Prophet’s words were true. Now Jamie wanted to look again upon the face of the man who had actually seen God the Father and Jesus Christ, and he wanted to do it without the Prophet knowing that he was being watched.
Before long, Jamie caught sight of the wagon. He could see a woman in the wagon and noticed the other men too. But one person seemed to stand out from the others. A burning feeling quickened Jamie’s heart as he watched, and he knew more surely than ever that this man was the Prophet. Even after the Prophet had passed and Jamie had climbed down from the tree, his feeling of elation continued as he returned to his home.
As Jamie stepped onto the porch and slipped inside the kitchen, he heard his mother say, “But I’m not sure! I’ve known Joseph for some time now, and I want to believe that he speaks the truth. But to have someone say that he has actually seen and heard God! That’s hard for me to accept.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that what Joseph says is true,” his father said. He walked over to the shelf and took down a book. “I’ve read the Book of Mormon, and I believe that it’s true—every word of it,” Father testified to her. “If Joseph lied about seeing God, then he lied about this book being true. The reverse is also true. If this book is true, then Joseph actually saw the Father and Jesus Christ. Joseph is a prophet, and I intend to be baptized this Sunday when they hold the service.”
Jamie walked forward. “Me too. I know that what Joseph teaches is true.”
“How can you, a young boy, know if a church is true?” his mother asked, smiling gently to soften the words.
“I know,” Jamie stated. “And I’ve read the Book of Mormon. It’s true!”
“I’ve really wanted to read it, too,” Mother said with a sigh, “but I just haven’t found the time. There are so many chores …”
Jamie’s heart started pounding. More than anything in the world, he wanted his family to all be baptized at the same time. But if his mother didn’t have time to read, she wouldn’t know that the Book of Mormon is true. He could give her that time.
“If Father will give me time from my own chores, I’ll do yours, Mother. Then you’ll have time to read the Book of Mormon. I just know that when you’ve read it and prayed about it, you’ll know that it’s true.”
“I can do Jamie’s chores if he’ll do yours,” Father agreed. “How about it, Martha?”
Mother looked at her husband, then at her son. She loved them both very much. “All right. I’ll read the Book of Mormon. But I’m not promising that I’ll be baptized.”
For the next two days Jamie was busy from morning till dark. He’d never realized before all the work that his mother did during the day. At night he fell into bed exhausted. He even missed the special meeting where Joseph announced the baptism on Sunday. All his strength was directed toward helping his mother.
Saturday afternoon Brother George Riggs rode up to their farm. Jamie went out with his mother and father to greet him.
“Brother Johns,” Brother Riggs said after the greetings were over, “I need a pair of strong arms to help dam that stream above Brother Knight’s farm. That’s where we’ll hold the baptismal service. Could I have your son’s help for the afternoon?”
Father glanced at Mother, who nodded her head.
“We’d be proud to have him help,” Father answered. “He desires to be baptized also, so it’s fitting for him to help dam the stream.”
Brother Riggs smiled at Jamie. “That’s just fine. Brother Joseph will be glad to know that.” Turning to Father, he asked, “And you, Brother and Sister Johns? How about you?”
“I’ll be baptized, too,” Father spoke out clearly.
The group then turned to Martha for her answer. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled at her son. “Jamie gave me the time to read the Book of Mormon and to ponder and to pray. I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I, too, want to be baptized!”
Jamie had never felt happier in his life.

An interesting example that I was closely associated with and which I have referred to previously was one in which several young adults became peacemakers in their homes.
A very wise bishop called several young people into his office and said to them: “I would like you to help me in an experiment. I would like to prove the impact and influence of one member on the spirit of the family. For one month, I would like each of you to be the peacemaker in your home. Don’t say anything about this to your family, but be thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Be an example. Where there is quarreling or bickering among members of your family, do whatever you can to overcome these faults by creating an atmosphere of love, harmony, and helpfulness.
“When you are irritated—and irritations arise in almost every family—control yourself and help the others to control themselves. I would like to see every home in our ward be ‘a bit of heaven on earth.’ At the end of the month, I would like you to meet with me again and report.”
It was a challenge for these young people, and they met the challenge in a wonderful way.
When they reported back to the bishop, remarks such as these were made. One young fellow said: “I had no idea I would have so much influence in my home. It’s really been different this last month. I’ve been wondering if much of the turmoil and strife we used to have was caused by me and my attitudes.”
A young lady said: “I guess we were just the normal family with our selfishness causing little daily conflicts. But as I have worked with my brothers and sisters, a lot of this has been eliminated, and there has been a much sweeter spirit in our home. I believe you really have to work at it to have the spirit of peace in your home.”
Another young lady reported: “Yes, there has been a much sweeter and cooperative and unselfish spirit in our home since I began this experiment, but the biggest difference of all has been in me. I’ve tried hard to be a good example and a peacemaker, and I feel better about myself than I have ever felt. A wonderful feeling of peace has come over me.”

My family lived in São Paulo, Brazil. On the other side of our street, there was a forest of mangrove trees. Mangrove forests have rivers crossing through the trees. The ground is very muddy.
Many people built houses on that muddy ground. They put huge logs in the mud. Then they built their house on top of them. But when it rained, the river overflowed. The water got into their houses. Then the people had nowhere to sleep at night.
When that happened, my father would invite all of them into our home. Sometimes there were as many as 15 people! He brought them into our living room and gave them blankets. Mom made them something to eat. Then they slept in our house until the next day.
This happened at least three or four times. I remember thinking, Not very many people would take strangers in. My father was letting people we barely knew sleep in our house! But then I thought, They have nowhere else to go.
My parents always did things to help people. But their service was more than just helping and giving. It was showing love to our neighbor, even when our neighbor was somebody we didn’t know well.

I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to the the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

I remember an adjudicated gang member that was in the program I oversaw; I’ll call him John. I witnessed when John realized that he could choose to be respectful and kind. After experiencing sheer terror while trying to climb a rock face, the work of wholesome recreation gave him the courage to see the needs of others, to seek to understand them, and to support his peers through the same paralyzing fear. He told me he wanted a better life and recognized, after that moment, that his life would change.

Let me share with you briefly what one of our dear friends taught Margaret and me about a better way to see our opportunities to settle down as if "for the duration" even if we won't be in a particular ward for long and even without a formal calling.

In one ward we attended, we observed a couple, Sandy and Nancy, who seemed to know everyone in the ward and were involved in helping them though neither was involved in a calling in which they would be expect them to do so. When we asked Sandy about this he told us an interesting story. At the end of a year when he served as elders quorum president in a BYU ward, his bishop thanked him for his service and told him that he wanted to give others the opportunity to serve so he was recommending that the stake president release Sandy.

Furthermore, he explained, "I'm not going to give you a formal calling, Sandy. But I call you to be a Christian. I call you to notice those who sit alone in church and sit with and get to know them. I call you to walk with those who walk alone and find those who need help and pray for inspiration to see how you or others can help them."

Sandy explained how awkward it felt initially to put himself forward in those ways. However, he related that this was the most meaningful year of Church service he had ever had. He met people he would never have known and found the Lord inspiring him to see needs he had been unaware of as an elders quorum president. He was involved in reactivating several people, doing missionary work as he helped others to change a flat tire, and giving blessings to others in the hospital. His life was full and more meaningful than ever. When they married, he and Nancy had committed they would continue to be Christians thereafter.

People come to make that crucial choice for many reasons. At first one man we taught could not see the need to be baptized. After all, he had tried to be good all his life. He had committed no serious sin. He had been baptized as a child in another church. But then two things came to his mind. One was that the Savior was baptized out of obedience, having never sinned. The other is that he wanted to make the commitment to the Savior through the authority of the true priesthood, just as the Savior went to John to be baptized.
Another young man we taught chose to be baptized out of a heart broken by the sorrow he felt for his sins. As he came up out of the waters of baptism, he threw his arms around my neck, tears streaming down his cheeks, and said in my ear, “I’m clean. I’m clean.”
Their choices to make the covenant of baptism sprang from a common faith. They knew that if they would keep a covenant to obey the Savior’s commandments, He would keep His covenant with them to lead them toward eternal life. They were ready to come unto Him that they might be changed and led by Him and, in time, become like Him.

In my freshmen year of high school, I came across a popular new video game that was exceptionally violent. After a few times playing it, I began to enjoy it. I’d come home from school and plop down lazily on the couch to play, and I’d tell my younger siblings to go away because the game wasn’t appropriate for them.
It didn’t take long for the effects of my decisions to start happening. Slowly, I lost patience, love, peace, and the Spirit. My thoughts became violent and my temper became high. I was rude to people and pushed away kind acts. This happened for way too long.
One day I was reading the For the Strength of Youth booklet in the “Entertainment and Media” section when I realized what I had been doing. I’d been ignoring the warnings and silently been suffering for it. That day I repented and promised never to play games like that again. It was not easy in any way. I hadn’t realized my addiction to the awful game, and I have been nothing but blessed for quitting. I have become closer to my family and to my Father in Heaven.
I also learned a valuable lesson about keeping myself pure. The Lord wants us to become like little children (see Matthew 18:3), so if something is inappropriate for a little child to play, then it’s inappropriate for me.

“Be sure you have a canteen. Make sure each girl has water.”

No one knew how ironic that advice was going to be as the girls from the Dallas Texas Stake set out on their certification hikes. Because the camp was in a farming area, the hike was confined to the outer perimeters of the camp. In the 100-degree heat, plenty of water would be essential.

The group had no sooner walked to the farthermost point from camp than a thunderstorm unleashed a torrent of rain. Sliding down the trail that had in moments become a stream, the girls broke out into song about Noah’s ark and headed for camp. Drenched to the skin, water running down their faces, the girls discarded soggy lunches, poured out full canteens, and tried to find dry clothes as their hike ended rather abruptly. Although backpacking is not a common recreational activity in this section of Texas, the Adventurers fill their requirements by being dropped off outside of camp and hiking in along farm lanes carrying all their gear.

My wife and I, together with baby Kay, were all fine and good the evening we bid granny good night and entered our room to sleep. After some conversation and night prayers, we slept.
Around 3:50am on Sunday, 16 July 2023, my wife started complaining of acute abdominal pains. I went to the nearby 24-hour pharmacy to get her medication. After taking the medication and receiving a priesthood blessing, she was fine, and we went back to sleep.
About 5:45 am, the pain began again and this time it was so severe and intense, we could not take care of it at home. As a health worker, I knew I had to quickly send her to the hospital.
I asked myself “Why now”? I had prepared for a talk at one of the branches in the district where I serve as district president, and I didn’t want to fail them. The branch president there was newly called, and I didn’t want him to lose trust in me, but I needed to be there for my wife. My family is very important to me. I was going to call the branch president and tell him that I would not be able to speak, but I felt strongly I should not call him. So, I obeyed the promptings and decided there was still time.
At the hospital, all physical and laboratory investigations done on my wife were within normal ranges. She was given some pain medication and antibiotics.
As we got to the emergency unit, there was a little child who was suffering from severe anemia. Nurses on duty were prepared to transfuse the child with one pint of blood. The blood was ready but due to the low level of blood in the child’s system, the veins had collapsed, and the nurses were unable to secure the intravenous line.
This hospital is the same facility that I work at. I was asked to set the intravenous line for this little child. On the second attempt I got the vein and the transfusion started immediately.
When I went to my wife’s bed to see how she was doing, I had a great surprise! She was fine and I got to bring her home to be with our little boy, Kay.
As we were going home, I thought about what had happened. I was able to save the life of this little baby. What would have happened if my wife had not experienced the sudden onset of abdominal pains? I know that this handsome little child would have died. It made me feel very grateful for my training and abilities to help others.
Often things happen to us where the Lord wants us to use that opportunity to save a life or help rescue someone. We are his hands here on earth.
Let us have the attitude of gratitude in all things. Let us give thanks to our Father in Heaven and to His Son, Jesus Christ, for all that happens to us. It can be a blessing in disguise. Even if the blessings don’t come today or tomorrow, I testify that they will definitely come.

Blair: I grew up in the Church and have a testimony. However, there is a part of my life that few people know. At age seven I often saw a pornographic poster on a teenage neighbor’s wall. It left an impression in my mind that I could not forget. Unworthy thoughts led me to develop an unworthy habit I felt I couldn’t break.
Ryan: When I was about 12 years old I went to a friend’s house and found him and a bunch of neighborhood boys gathered around the computer. I joked, “Hey, are you guys looking at pornography?”
They said, “How did you guess? Come check this out.”
That was the beginning of a problem in my life. I soon began using our family computer to find more and more images.
Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.
Pornography first appeals to curiosity. Somehow, just looking doesn’t seem all that dangerous. Every one of us has gone into a store just to look—not to buy. But this is a huge store, with almost unlimited merchandise. Once we are in the store, the invitations to satisfy our curiosity are endless. And so curiosity is never satisfied.
There are lots of things in life—like rattlesnakes or abandoned mine shafts or drugs—that we may be curious about. But knowing how dangerous they are, we walk away or leave the party or turn off the computer.
Actually, with pornography, there is no such thing as “just looking.” Looking is the problem. Viewing pornography triggers sexual feelings. We can easily get hooked on those pleasurable feelings, especially if they seem to relieve stress or anxiety—and we can start a cycle of addiction just as difficult to break as an addiction to drugs or alcohol.
Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, and the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get discouraged with myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.
Guilt, fear, and depression are common emotions for those involved with pornography—guilt, because they know what they are doing is wrong; fear, because they are terrified their secret will be found out; and depression, because they no longer feel the Spirit. Relationships with family, friends, Church leaders, and the Lord are damaged.
Blair: My self-confidence dwindled in church, school, and everywhere. Many times I felt very alone, awkward, and unworthy. If a girl liked me, I would think, “She wouldn’t like me if she really knew me.” I would shy away from being social.
Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.
As these young men struggled with their addiction to pornography, each tried to overcome it on his own. But like a hiker trapped in a dangerous crevice, each needed help. Talking to the bishop became the key to changing the direction of their lives.
Blair: I prayed for strength to leave these temptations alone. I made a list of things such as prayer, scriptures, and clean thoughts that would help me draw close to God. But although I worked hard, it didn’t solve my problems.
The thought of confessing to the bishop made me cringe. I felt it would be better to tell the bishop about the problem when it was in the past. But I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to be in the past if I did not confess. If God already knew my struggles and I felt comfortable talking about them in prayer, why not talk face to face with God’s servant? Once I finally decided to confess, I felt a reassuring peace that it was the right thing to do.
If you are using pornography, you are not morally clean, even if you haven’t done anything else immoral. Rob talks about realizing he wasn’t worthy to go to the temple or on a mission.
Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pleaded for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to a point where I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.
Repentance may be difficult, but it is also comforting and filled with hope.
Speaking of those who struggle with pornography, one bishop says: “Help is available. The repentance process is just that—a process. It takes time to break negative patterns, and each small victory must be acknowledged, reinforced, and celebrated along the way. Sometimes those I have worked with still struggle, but at least they are not hiding anymore. They have begun to build a support system. They have realized they don’t have to face this challenge alone.”
A former bishop explains: “Besides my own family, I don’t think I loved anyone in my ward quite as much as I loved those who came to me with broken hearts, seeking forgiveness and peace. They cared more about what the Lord thought of them than what any person thought. I respected their courage and desire to make things right. I shed tears over them. I rejoiced when they were clean and whole again. And afterward I never looked at them as former sinners—only as beloved brothers and sisters.”
“Trust in the Lord,” counseled Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “He knows what He is doing. He already knows of your problems. And He is waiting for you to ask for help” (“Trust in the Lord,” Ensign, May 1989, 36).
I felt relief when I stopped pretending. Sharing the burden with my bishop and my family meant I no longer had to deal with this addiction alone. Now I hold on to this support system.
A problem that dominated my youth could not be overcome overnight. This road has been long and hard—and it continues. It isn’t enough anymore to look happy. I want to be happy. I am coming to know Christ and to understand the Atonement. The Savior gives me the strength I need so my self-confidence and self-respect grow each day.
I was honest with my bishop. And when my dad talked to me, I was honest with him too. We worked on the problem together. We decided not to have the Internet in our home for a while. That was a big help.
I’m turning 16 soon, and I’m glad I decided not to let pornography control my life. I feel better about myself, and I think about young women differently than I did before. With my bishop’s help, I’m preparing now for the temple, a mission, and a great marriage one day.
It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go to the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

In Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, President Bokolo shares how he and his family joined the Church in France. One day, as he was reading his patriarchal blessing, the Spirit inspired Brother Bokolo to return with his family to the DR Congo. Brother Bokolo knew they would face many challenges if they returned. And their church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was not yet established in Kinshasa.
Yet, in faith, as have many others, the Bokolos followed the Lord’s Spirit. In Kinshasa, they ministered to and blessed those around them, overcame challenges, received spiritual and temporal blessings. Today, they rejoice in having a house of the Lord in their country.

I know this is true from experience. Many years ago, as a university student, I met a man who worked for one of the largest computer companies in the world. This was in the early days of computing, and it just so happened that his company had sent him to sell computers to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As far as I could tell, this salesman had no religious faith. Yet he said with wonder and exasperation, “In this church they were doing what they called ‘genealogy,’ searching for names of people who are dead, trying to identify their ancestors. People, mostly women, were running around between filing cabinets, searching through little cards for information.” If I remember right, he said the ladies were wearing tennis shoes so they could run a little faster. The man went on, “As I saw the magnitude of what they were trying to do, I realized that I had discovered the reason for the invention of computers.”

Well, he was partially right. Computers would be an important part of the future of family history work—just not the computers he was selling. An inspired leader of the Church chose not to buy his computers. The Church was to wait for technology that at that time had not yet even been imagined. But I have learned in the many years since that even the best technology can never be a substitute for revelation from heaven, like the kind that Church leader received. This is a spiritual work, and the Lord directs it through His Holy Spirit.

In the heart of England, a town with cobblestone streets, streetlamps, and centuries-old churches, was ready for the 2019 Christmas season. Warwick resembled the perfect Christmas card with wreaths, lights, and a larger-than-life Christmas tree in the centre of town. While it is best known for its castle, where in years past it was frequented by queens, princes, dukes, duchesses and other notables, most locals are not aware of a quiet miracle that took place at Christmastime not so long ago.
In an unassuming chapel near Town Square, a faithful group of Christians from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gather each Sunday to worship together and partake of the holy sacrament. These followers of Christ pattern their lives after His teachings and strive to give of themselves and serve others.
At Christmastime, tradition requires a choir to sing, and all members of the small congregation were welcome to join and prepare to sing at this special time of year. Singing experience wasn’t required—just a willing heart and voice. Even the full-time missionaries were recruited to increase numbers and achieve a proper balance between men and women. The choir director chose a simple two-part melody with a piano accompaniment, which shared a thoughtful message of the first Christmas night.
Many members of the choir had not performed before and each was placed next to a more experienced member, to better hear how their part was sung. The choir members rehearsed together for weeks before Christmas.
On the Sunday that the choir was to sing, a young man named Tom Brannan was visiting the sacrament service with his father and happened to arrive early, when choir members were holding a final run through before singing in Church that day. Tom was invited to sing with them, and he willingly joined in. He had a nice voice, picked up the men’s part quickly and added a measure of support to the men’s section.
While waiting for the pianist to arrive, the men and women of the choir sang through their parts, together and separately. With just a few minutes to go before the service was to begin, word came that the choir accompanist was unexpectedly delayed; she was not likely to make it in time for the performance. It would be impossible for this humble group to sing without a piano. Disappointment filled the room as the choir members soon realised that they may not be singing in church that day; something they had looked forward to for some time.
As thoughts were aired, Tom came forward and said, “I don’t read music, but I play by ear, and I could try to play a few chords.” He then sat down at the piano, composed an accompaniment and a miracle was born. Tom played beautifully, the piano framing the melody. The choir director brought in the women first, and next the men—all while the piano carried the song forward.
Tears flowed freely as the words of the song filled the hearts and souls of those present. Tom’s unexpected offering brought a spirit of unity and strength. Imperfection was made perfect in that moment as the story of the first Christmas unfolded through music.
The experience sunk deep. It was a reminder that when we give of ourselves, miracles can happen. That is the true gift from God, offering our best, and being made whole through His Son, Jesus Christ.

Finally, let me share with you that as a lad I was strangely moved, among the books I was reading, by one book and one incident. The incident and the book were later made into a prominent movie. The book was The Keys of the Kingdom by A. J. Cronin, a physician and novelist. In it is the incident of a young priest who was assigned to work with an old, worn, unappreciated parish priest who had given his life to Christ, who had served with great unselfishness but was not responded to or encouraged by his hierarchical superiors. The young priest, brilliant, vigorous, talented, saw this and decided to surrender his vocation. He would not be a priest if this is what happened to those who unselfishly and truly served. The older priest urged against his abandoning his calling with these quiet words of encouragement:

You’ve got inquisitiveness and tenderness. You’re sensible of the distinction between thinking and doubting. . . . And quite the nicest thing about you, my dear boy, is this—you haven’t got that bumptious security which springs from dogma rather than from faith.

[A. J. Cronin, The Keys of the Kingdom (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1941), 144]

Oksana has had some challenges in her life. About two years ago, she developed a lot of pain in her back and legs, so much that she couldn’t walk or bend over. Her parents took her to the hospital, where the doctors discovered a tumor on her spine. As the doctors prepared to operate, they told her parents that she had a 50% chance of being paralyzed from the waist down. “I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me,” Oksana says.

“The doctors scheduled an emergency operation on fast Sunday,” Oksana’s mom, Andreé, explains. “Members of our ward fasted for her. And when the doctor came out of the operating room, he said it was like a miracle.” The doctors were able to easily remove the tumor without damaging Oksana’s spine, which they had not thought would be possible. “It was a miracle,” Oksana’s mom adds. Today Oksana is healthy and happy, though she still has one more surgery scheduled to remove some metal rods placed in her spine, which are helping it to grow straight again.

Some time ago I was interviewing a young missionary who had been in the field for about 3 months. He indicated that he wanted to go home. As I made inquiry he explained that things had really gone sour for him. The first challenge was adjusting to the funny food he was having to eat. I asked if that was the only reason why he wanted to go home. He explained that that indignity was followed by jet lag and a cold. I then asked, "Is there anything else?" He said that his companion didn't think the way he did and was hard to get along with and hard to understand.

My response again was, "Is there anything else?" He answered that he was miffed that his language skills didn't come faster and that it was hard to understand the people.

Finally he shared the "coup de grace" -- he got a "Dear John" from his girl friend back home.

I asked him, "Which of these problems that you have had was a surprise to God?" He seemed startled and asked me what I meant.

I said, "Do you believe in an omniscient (all-knowing) God?"

He stammered for a second and replied, "yes."

Then I asked, "So if you believe in an omniscient - all-knowing - God, did He know that you were going to have all of these problems before you came into the mission field?"

He answered, "well, I guess so." I then said something that really caught him off guard. I said, "He must really hate you!"

After he got over the shock, he smiled and said, "No. Father in Heaven loves me."

I then asked him the question that he was now waiting for: "If God knew that you were going to have all this torment before you came into the mission field, and if He doesn't hate you, why would He allow all these things happen to you?"

Again, he smiled and suggested, "maybe I'm supposed to learn something."

His challenge was that he wanted the lesson without paying the price. He wanted faith, but did not want to act or persist or endure. Faith is an "action word."

Dinah sat on the rug, excited for story time. It was her favorite part of the day.
She looked across the rug and saw a classmate named Felicity waving to her.
“Come here!” Felicity said.
Dinah scooted across the rug. “What’s up?”
“Your hair is different than mine,” said Felicity. “Why does your hair look like that?” She touched Dinah’s braids and giggled.
“My mom helped me do it,” Dinah said. She loved the color of her hair and how it felt under her fingers. She loved the neat rows of cute little plastic hair clips.
“Also, I want to see something,” Felicity said. “Show me your arm.”
Dinah held out her arm. “Well, what?” she asked as Felicity moved her own arm next to Dinah’s.
“Your arms are so brown!” said Felicity.
“Oh,” said Dinah, scooting back to the other side of the rug. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for the day to end.
At home, Dinah didn’t say much at dinner. When it was cleanup time, her sister, Aly, grabbed a towel to dry dishes and Dinah picked up the broom.
Mom started singing. Mom loved to sing while they cleaned.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine …”
Dinah smiled a little. She hummed and sang along as she swept: “Let it shine, let it shine …”
The song ended. “My turn!” Aly said. She started a new song. Dinah tried to harmonize like Aly and Mom did, but it sounded flat. Like a boring gray color. Everyone burst out laughing.
“That was funny!” said Dinah. “Let me try again.”
Aly started the song again, and Dinah closed her eyes and joined in. This time, the different notes started to blend, like yellow and blue mixing into a bright green.
They sang almost the whole time they cleaned. When they were finishing, Dinah remembered what happened at school. She still felt uncomfortable about it.
“Mom, do you ever think about how people look different?” Dinah asked. “How everyone has different hair and skin and eyes?”
“Hmm, yes, I know what you mean,” said Mom. “Did something happen that made you think about that?”
Dinah told Mom about what Felicity said. “I felt weird. I didn’t like it. Why did she say that?”
“It sounds like Felicity was curious about you,” Mom said. “Everyone has their own unique skin color. And hair and eyes too. We’re all Heavenly Father’s children, and there’s no right or wrong way to look. But sometimes people need to get used to the beauty of different colors.”
“All peoples’ colors are beautiful?” Dinah asked.
“Definitely. Everyone’s color shows something special about their family and their history. The way you act represents our family to others. And who do we always say we follow in our family? Jesus Christ, right? So you also represent the Savior.”
Dinah nodded as Mom pulled her into a hug. Then she pulled Aly into the hug too.
“We can always feel good about who we are—especially when we’re following Jesus Christ,” she said quietly.
Dinah’s upset feelings began to settle down.
“Now,” Mom said with a smile, “time to get ready for bed. And then—dessert!”
“Yay!” Aly shrieked. “It’s gonna be pie, I just know it!” She zoomed upstairs.
Dinah followed Aly. She felt much better after talking with Mom. Her skin color was another part of who she was, like her family and her testimony were. She would keep being kind and set a good example at school. With God on her side, it would be a piece of cake.
Or even better, a piece of pie!

When I think of accumulating things and the difference it makes, I think of the experience I had in Bacolod, on the Negros Island in the Philippines.

We were being driven to stake conference by President Ruiz. He had borrowed a car so we would have transportation. When we drove up to the little chapel there in Bacolod, there was no one around. I said, “President, maybe the conference is at another time.” He replied, “No, they’re all inside.” We drove into the parking lot—ours was the only car there. We got out of the car and walked into the chapel. It was packed to capacity and people were standing on the sides. The meeting commenced and the great stake president, President Villerette, stood. He looked at his people and tears began to stream down his face. He said, “I’m hungry. My wife and my children are hungry. All we have to eat is a little bowl of rice each day.” Then he said, “But you, my brothers and sisters, are hungry, too. And I promise you that if you will live and keep the commandments of the Lord that this will pass, and one day again we will have our stomachs full and be able to enjoy the blessings of our country.”

Eighteen months after the surgery, my husband and I were invited to speak at a religious conference. The topic? “What accessing the grace of Jesus Christ daily looks like.” As we prepared, we immersed ourselves in studying Christ’s grace and how it operates in our lives. Grace, as defined in the Bible Dictionary, is “divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ.”
One week before the conference, I went on a bike ride with a friend. I rode my recumbent trike, which gives me the freedom to move, while she pedaled beside me on her bicycle. We talked as we rode, and as usual I cried. Sadness had become my constant companion, something the medical world might label as situational depression. I opened up to my friend about how lost I felt, about the overwhelming sadness that shadowed my days.
She asked me a question that has stayed with me ever since: “Stacy, what exactly are you sad about? What do you feel like you’ve lost?” I didn’t have an answer. I knew I was sad about my loss of movement, fearful that I would never regain my strength or the ability to do the things I once could. But the source of my sadness remained elusive.
A few days before the conference, the answer I had been searching for came to me, seemingly out of nowhere. I woke up in the middle of the night, a time when my anxious thoughts usually kept me company. But that night, a phrase echoed in my mind: “Graceful—full of grace.” As I drifted back to sleep, I thought to myself, “Yes, that’s a good point. Being graceful means being full of His grace. I’ll include that in my presentation.”
When I woke again in the morning, the same phrase was there, clear and insistent: “Graceful—full of grace.” I realized then that this message wasn’t just for the people at the conference—it was for me. That was the source of my sadness. That was what I had lost: my physical gracefulness.
As a young girl, I had been a ballerina, dancing through much of my adolescence and into college. I had never thought of myself as graceful, but years of training had ingrained in me a certain physical poise—a way of standing, moving, and balancing. Even after I stopped dancing, that grace remained. And now, in the quiet of those early morning hours, the Lord was redefining the word for me. I no longer needed the physical grace I once had. I had His grace to lean on in my moments of weakness. His grace was sufficient to help me smile, to shift my focus from my limitations to His strength.
Heaven’s message to me was clear: “You no longer need to rely on the physical grace you’ve learned. My strength is made perfect in your weakness.”
Graceful.
It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained. It’s not about my grace anymore—it’s about Christ’s grace, filling my heart and mind.
Graceful. It’s a word I now carry with me, not as a reminder of what I’ve lost but of what I’ve gained.
At the conference, I found myself in a room packed with people, needing to cross to the other side. There was no clear aisle, no easy path to navigate. As I stood up, I whispered to myself, “Graceful.” His grace, not mine. That simple word gave me the courage to move, to weave through the crowd without fear.
The more I let go of my old grace and embraced His, the easier life became. I found the strength to do what I could never do alone. His grace allowed me to see myself as a beloved daughter of God, to give my all, knowing He would fill in the gaps where I couldn’t. His grace brought gratitude even for my weaknesses.
I still wrestle with frustration and fear every day. My “thorn” hasn’t been removed. But now when those dark thoughts creep in, I have a powerful tool: the Savior’s grace. I repeat the word graceful to myself and move forward with Him. I don’t know when or how physical healing will come, but I trust that He knows, and that’s enough.
Like Paul, I am grateful for my infirmity because it has opened my eyes to see Him more clearly in my life. I place my trust in Him, and in return He gives me peace and joy and the assurance that He will deliver me.